


Me and This Army

by innerbrat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: AU in that the mere existence of the original characters changes stuff, Gen, I took a character with not much canon and elaborated, clone jedi, not canon compliant - Legends/EU, which is risky when there's so much EU canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:48:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28613844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerbrat/pseuds/innerbrat
Summary: “Please tell the truth,” Shaak Ti said on more than one occasion. “You’re not in any trouble for it.”He didn’tfeellike he wasn’t in any trouble.---65-2490 was different. And when you're supposed to be the same, when difference represents a failure on someone's part, you learn to be shy about it. But when you have literally millions of brothers watching your back, you can let yourself shine a little.Clone Jedi AU.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	1. 65-2490

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an AU experiment in RP. Then I built backstory and stuff got planned and... yeah. 
> 
> Many thanks to delmcatee for helping develop the characters and storylines and for bouncing ideas off of, and ryfkah, for putting up with my random thoughts in general. Un-beta'd, because I feel weird inflicting my self indulgent OC stuff on other people so I just throw it out into the ether instead.

Shaak Ti found him on her first tour of the facility. She was being shown one of the classrooms, rows of young boys sitting at terminals, their heads inside electrocardionets, their eyes cast down at the screen. One of them caught her attention at the exact same moment that he looked up to find her, and their eyes locked.

"Who is that?" she asked Nala Se, who needed to have him pointed out to her, clearly not feeling the connection between the boy and the Jedi.

The scientist consulted her datapad to establish which terminal the boy sat at. "Cadet 65-2490," she said mildly. "Is there a problem?"

Shaak Ti watched as one of the boy’s companions noticed he was distracted, leaned over and jabbed him in the shoulder. A conversation passed quickly between them, the companion looked over at Shaak Ti and Nala Se, and shook his head. Another meaningful look between the two boys and 65-2490 returned to his studies.

"I would like to meet him," she told Nala Se. "Can you arrange that?"

* * *

2490 was summoned away from his batch shortly after the evening meal, when he found himself being escorted by two of his elder brothers away from the cadet training areas towards the labs and offices of the chief scientists. When he asked if anything was wrong, they shrugged and shook their heads.

"Sorry, little brother. They didn’t tell us."

He was shown into a meeting chamber as bright white as the rest of the facility, where the alien -- _Togruta_ , his education told him -- from before was sitting serenely, with Doctor Se standing behind her.

"Would you leave us alone?" the Togruta asked. Doctor Se seemed reluctant at first, but bent her graceful neck in acquiescence and left 2490 alone with the woman.

"Six Five Two Four Nine Oh," she said. "That’s your identifying number, right?" he nodded and she continued, "I am Jedi Master Shaak Ti, and my friends and I would like to ask you some questions."

Other than Shaak Ti, the questions came from a group holoprojection of around half a dozen other people, the species of some of which 2490 could identify, and some of which were completely unknown. They asked about his childhood so far, about his training, and about experiences that he knew made him stand out from his brothers. They knew things that he had been careful to keep hidden from the Kaminoans, drew out confessions from him that only his fellow batchers had previously known about.

"Please tell the truth," Shaak Ti said on more than one occasion. "You’re not in any trouble for it."

He didn’t _feel_ like he wasn’t in any trouble.

When the interview was over, Shaak Ti gave him the warmest smile he had ever seen on an adult female, and stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you,Two Four Nine Oh."

She led him out of the meeting room, where Nala Se was waiting for them.

"I need to talk to the rest of the Council, Doctor Se. Can you give him a room near my quarters and come and join me later?"

He wasn’t taken back to his brothers.

* * *

There was a lot of disagreement among the Council. He was too old -- in body if not actually in years. There was no sign of any sensitivity in any of the others, nor in the template. There was no precedent for this, there wasn't precedent for any of it. He’d been born and raised for a completely different purpose. He’d been _engineered_ for things Jedi shouldn’t be drawn to. He had certain... physical limitations that might make training him a waste of time.

He was strong. He couldn’t go back to the others. It was too dangerous _not_ to train him. They’d lost so many even now. They were being asked to lead armies for the first time in generations. Who better to lead than a trained soldier? Who better to inspire loyalty than one of their own?

He couldn’t go to the temple as a Youngling, but it wouldn’t be the first time a grown boy had been taken in directly to be a Padawan, and look how that turned out.

Yes, look how _that_ turned out.

Shaak Ti suggested that if she were to oversee the training in general on Kamino, she was in a perfect place to conduct additional training, but that wasn’t seen as a good idea. She would have a lot to supervise, learn and put in place, especially at the start. And he couldn’t be close to the other clones, at the risk of forming unhealthy attachments. No, it should be someone who could take the time to train him thoroughly, and give him the chance to fulfill his genetic destiny at the same time.

Nala Se was consulted specifically about the genetic modifications 65-2490 had undergone, and she confirmed that this particular individual had not been created or modified in any way differently from the others; any variation was an unintended mutation and she extended her apologies for the imperfect process. She acknowledged that the clones did have some modifications from the template, and some of these could be removed from a living clone.

She agreed that 65-2490 would undergo a course of gene therapy which should slow, if not reverse, the rapid aging he’d experienced since gestation, so he would at least age at a natural pace from now on and could be expected to live as long as any human Jedi.

Later, she would consult with Lama Su and Darth Tyrannus, and between them it was decided that as the Jedi didn’t _ask_ about the behaviour inhibitor chip and all the protocols thereon, it could stay intact without any breach of contract.

* * *

2490 spent his last few days on Kamino in Tipoca City, sleeping in a bed in a room he had to himself, spending many hours with his arms hooked up to gene vector medium, and eating meals with Master Shaak Ti, where she would explain, in her ever calm and warm hearted way, everything she thought he might want to know about the Force and the Jedi Order.

(Much later, having lived with and grown to better understand the clones with which she worked, Shaak Ti would regret not realising why he never asked for any information that she didn’t volunteer herself.)

Eventually a small hyperdrive-enabled shuttle arrived at Tipoca, flown by a male Jedi with long dark hair and multiple horns growing from his forehead: a Zabrak, 2490 would later learn.

"Two-four Ninety?" he said, and his voice was rich and authoritative.. "My name is Agen Kolar, and you are to be my Padawan."

* * *

Master Kolar was a lot more practical in his teaching than Shaak Ti had been in those last few days, and 2490 found himself enjoying this a lot more. The first thing he did on entering hyperspace was to bring 2490 into the middle of the empty personnel deck and produce a lightsaber hilt, which he presented to the new Padawan.

"When you are ready," Master Kolar explained, "you will make your own lightsaber, but for now, you will need one work to train with, and fight, when the time comes. Try this one."

2490 tried the weight and then gave the hilt an experimental swing. He ignited the blade and as the green blade shot out into the air, he gave a low whistle.

"Have you ever wielded something like this before?" Master Kolar asked, watching 2490 carefully. 2490 shook his head.

"We trained with blasters," he said, feeling that the Jedi wanted more. "Occasionally unarmed combat. I’ve learned about blades, but never really expected to rely on it... but this feels different."

He’d been taught all his life to rely on his instincts, because that was where his training was. But none of the weapons they’d practised with in field sessions had touched his instincts in this way. He’d never touched a weapon that felt _alive_. This must have shown in his face, because Master Kolar made a noise of satisfaction and gave one single nod.

"This lightsaber will do for now, then. Good."

The training was simple, focused on form and about using the sense 2490 had never before had a name to put to it: the _Force_.

In the facility they’d covered Jedi in theory: who they were, what they were supposed to do, how clone soldiers were supposed to protect them. But 2490 had never before made the connection between what _he_ could do -- the way things moved around him, his above-possibility reflexes, his way of reading his brothers’ feelings -- with that alien, magical concept of the Force. Why would he? Clones were not Jedi, could never _be_ Jedi.

But now Master Kolar had put into his hand a weapon that he connected to in a way that he never had with a blaster, and he found after a few attempts with a training remote that he could actually deflect blaster bolts using the lightsaber blade.

"Like a real Jedi," he said, disbelieving it still.

Master Kolar gave him an odd look. "You _are_ a real Jedi," he said. "Do it again."

They shared a meal together later, at first in silence. But when 2490 spent some time staring at his newly borrowed lightsaber, he looked up to see that his master had been watching him steadily, his expression unreadable. After a moment’s pause, the Jedi Master said:

"Shaak Ti tells me that you don’t ask many questions. That on Kamino you learned by absorbing knowledge from the databanks and by listening to your instructors. That isn’t going to work for us, Twofour Ninety. If you have questions, you should feel free to ask them. A Jedi should be ready to learn from his experiences, and to follow his curiosity."

"Sorry, General -- " Kolar grunted, about to interrupt him, and 2490 realised his mistake, " -- Master. I was wondering; if Jedi make their own lightsabers, who made this one?"

His Master nodded, as if approving of that question and the train of thought that led to it.

"An old friend of mine, Jedi Master Sar Labooda. She fell at the battle of Geonosis." That had been just a couple of months ago, but felt like a long time for clone and Jedi.

"That was the first battle where clones and Jedi fought side by side," 2490 volunteered, and Master Kolar confirmed it.

"Without your brothers, we would have lost many more Jedi than we did. The Jedi and the Republic already owe the clones a great deal."

"Is it usual for a lightsaber to be passed on to another after their death?"

Master Kolar shook his head. "Usually a Jedi’s lightsaber is brought to the Temple to stand in memorial. Younglings practise with training weapons, but would usually make their own before they are taken on as a Padawan. Don’t worry, your time will come soon."

2490 hadn’t been worried, but as the lightsaber seemed such an important part of being a Jedi, he imagined that maybe a new Padawan would be expected to be.

Master Kolar continued: "Sar Labooda enjoyed working with young Jedi. I think she would be pleased that her lightsaber fits you so well. My only regret is that I couldn’t pass on my own previous Padawan’s lightsaber to his successor, but I had already removed its crystal when I received word I was to work with you."

He drew his own lightsaber out and ignited it, extinguished and ignited again, first green like 2490’s, then a blue blade. He watched 2490’s reaction as he extinguished the lightsaber a second time and returned it to his belt. 

"Tan also fell at Geonosis. I’m afraid that this is rather unorthodox and may violate the rules of non-attachment," he said, "but I felt that Tan’s lightsaber crystal had not enough time in the field to be retired to the Temple so early."

"What makes the colour?" 2490 asked, remembering that he was allowed to ask questions now, and finding he had a few. 

And so, Agen Kolar spent the rest of the journey explaining kyber, and the ritual that the Jedi called the Gathering, and how the Jedi and the crystal formed a bond that created each lightsaber’s individual colour. And how, with two crystals within the hilt, Master Kolar was able to switch his lightsaber between blue and green; his own crystal and that of his fallen Padawan. 2490 nodded to this, although he wasn’t sure why his Master seemed to be concerned about how he, 2490, would react to the knowledge. As far as he could see, this was a valid way of remembering a fallen comrade.

They returned to the cockpit after food in time for the jump out of hyperspace, and 2490 watched as his Master demonstrated some of the basics of flying as they descended to Coruscant.

* * *

Coruscant was big, dirty and crowded, and the Jedi Temple was not the oasis of calm among the chaos that 2490 expected it to be. Master Kolar gave him an initial tour, including a room where once again 2490 would be sleeping on his own, the training areas, and the library. 

"Our technology must seem archaic to you," he mused as they stood among shelves of holobooks and ancient tablets. "We can’t hook our archives up to an electrocardionet and download the information we need."

"I don’t mind reading," 2490 said, although he knew that he’d rather be learning to use a lightsaber. Kolar seemed to sense this, and gave him a sideways look. 

"You’ll have plenty of time to train with your lightsaber, but you’ll need to learn about the history of the Order as well, and that means lots of time in here. You have a head start in some of the physical training, but not, I’m sorry to say, in this part."

At least Kolar didn’t seem inclined to set too much work for 2490 to do in the library, preferring to spend their time together in lightsaber practice. He’d been right; 2490 did have an advantage, but only in his physical strength and combat instincts. The use of the Force proved as much a challenge to him as any Youngling, though his perseverance through the challenges pleased his Master.

It was all instinct, and he had those. The problems arose when his two instincts conflicted, when his Kamino training told him to go one way and the Force was flowing in the other. That was when he’d freeze, and Kolar would stop, extinguish his lightsaber, and tell 2490 once again to trust in the Force above all. Remind him he was a Jedi.

But he really liked lightsaber practice, and Kolar seemed to enjoy teaching him, in that serene way he had. He had endless patience, was liberal in his praise, and never let them move past something until 2490 had it mastered. He had other duties that didn’t involve his Padawan, usually with the Council, but would freely talk when they met up for meals. After a few days, 2490 found himself adapting to his new life, opening up and asking questions when he had them.

But he hadn’t seen any of his brothers in weeks.


	2. Warlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He is a clone, yes," said Kolar unnecessarily. "But he’s a Jedi, and I want you to obey his orders like you would mine."

Not long after they arrived on Coruscant, Kolar arrived at 2490’s quarters and told him to wear clothes fit for movement and combat. 2490 had only the brown and tan clothes provided to all Padawans, but they sufficed, Kolar said.

"We’re heading out to Savareen," he said. "Word is the Separatists are sending a small army out in that direction and you and I are going to head them off. With help, of course."

‘Help’ turned out to be the 374 Legion, a group of several thousand clone troopers led, alongside Master Kolar, by Clone Commander CC-05-5269, who Kolar introduced to 2490 as "Commander Viper", and to whom he introduced 2490 as "my Padawan, Commander Tufor Ninety. He’ll be accompanying us on this mission."

Viper’s helmet stayed pointing at 2490 for a second, but he recovered his composure thoroughly and saluted. "At your service, Commander." 

Behind him, the other two clone troopers in the transport also saluted. 2490 found himself saluting back, although he was fairly certain Jedi were not required or expected to salute clones. Kolar looked like he wanted to stop him, but Viper took his helmet off and caught the Jedi Master’s eye.

Viper had shaved the sides of his head so his hair grew in a wide line along the top of his scalp, and the tattoo of a snake -- 2490 would later learn it was a Corellian tree viper -- rose out from his neckline on his right shoulder, coiled around the back of his neck and peered over his left ear, where it coiled ready to strike from his temple. 

"He is a clone, yes," said Kolar unnecessarily. "But he’s a Jedi, and I want you to obey his orders like you would mine."

"Not a problem, sir," said Viper. The way he smirked at Kolar made 2490 relax, like a brother talking to a brother, not a clone submitting to a superior. He turned back to 2490 and smiled at him. The expression carried the same level of friendly respect, with an added warmth that 2490 recognised suddenly.

There were no clones stationed in the temple. This was the first time since leaving Kamino that 2490 had seen that smile on that face outside of a mirror.

"It’ll be an honour to serve with you, Commander," said Viper.

* * *

On the journey through hyperspace they talked strategy. 2490 stood to the side and tried not to stare outright at the way Viper took command of the conversation. Kolar shared maps and plans that he had presumably picked up from the Council, and Viper used that to make very firm suggestions about how they should proceed. Kolar would ask questions, usually along the lines of "what do you think?" and "should we..." and Viper would answer surely and calmly, unafraid to say when he thought the Jedi was wrong.

"No, sir, that won’t work," he’d say, and "if we approach them from this direction..."

Kolar’s decisions always held. He listened to Viper, took his advice on board, then laid out the battle plan with some finality, turning only to 2490 as this was done.

"Do you agree, Tufor?" 

2490 thought over the plan as he had seen it -- he’d followed enough to know that it was predominantly Viper's input with a few of Kolar's original plans -- and with no experience to draw on, he nodded. 

"Yeah, I agree."

To his surprise, he found he couldn’t work out the expression on Viper’s face. Was it disapproval, or confusion, or amusement? But the commander shut down the holoprojection of the map, saluted them both, and turned to leave with only the bare minimum of military sharpness in his bearing.

A short while later, 2490 was standing with his Master on the bridge, when Viper returned from the personnel deck where he and his troopers were preparing for battle.

"Commander," he said, "I was wondering if I could have a word."

2490 didn’t realise that ‘commander’ referred to him until Kolar looked over at him and nodded meaningfully. "I’ll be here."

2490 followed Viper back on to the deck, where Viper removed his helmet again to talk face to face. A smile spread across his face, warm and not quite with the same level of diplomatic deference he showed Kolar. 

"I just wanted to check the Jedi were treating you okay?"

2490 started in surprise, but then he nodded. "Yes si.. I mean, yeah. It’s okay. It’s weird, not being on Kamino. But they treat me like I’m one of them, most of the time."

Some Jedi looked at him, and he knew they just saw another clone. Maybe they already had too much experience sending his face out to die. But Kolar never gave him that impression. Kolar, once you got used to his taciturn habits and his direct manner, had been patient and friendly, and 2490 liked him.

Viper looked like he was expecting more of an answer, so 2490 continued: "There aren’t any other clones in the temple. I sleep in a room on my own, and only really train with Master Kolar. There’s a lot to get used to."

"You’ll be alright; you’re adaptable," Viper said, and put a hand on 2490’s shoulder. It was the first time in some time that anyone had touched him for anything other than correcting his form. "I didn’t catch your name, by the way."

"Six five two four..." but Viper shook his head, interrupting him. 

"Not your number. You grew up on Kamino, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you don’t have a name, little brother."

It wasn’t a question he’d expected anyone to ask him. 

2490 thought back to his batchers on Kamino. They’d be physically older than 2490 by now; not by much. They would still be undergoing intense combat training, still sitting at their terminals, not ready yet to be sent out into battle. He hadn’t seen them since Shaak Ti summoned him out of the mess. 

2490 remembered the way they teased him about his abilities, no one understanding what they meant, but everyone knowing that the Kaminoans wouldn’t approve of this kind of difference. He remembered the way his brothers protected him and he entertained them, and how they’d all come up with more and more ways he could help his squad ‘cheat’ at combat simulations and they’d cover for him because they were brothers and that’s what you did. 

He thought of the way that they teased him about his ‘magic’ like it was a cute party trick.

And the name they gave him.

"Warlock," he said. "My name is Warlock."

* * *

Warlock found combat to be a strange experience. The plan lasted as long as Viper told him to expect it to last: about ten minutes after contact with the enemy. The weak spot they had noticed on the plans wasn't there -- the plans must be out of date -- and Kolar had to make decisions on the fly, usually on the very strong recommendation of Viper shouting at him. 

There was fear, at first; Kolar had prepared him for that. He had to watch his brothers being shot down, watch them be killed, and while his Kamino training had warned him about that, he hadn’t known what it would _feel_ like. Not even Kolar’s training or his own experience with his feelings, could prepare him for feeling his own brothers’ pain when they died. It hit him deeply and he hesitated once, borrowed lightsaber freezing for a second. A blaster bolt he _could_ have stopped went past him, Kolar gave him a sharp look, and he snapped himself out of it; he had work to do. The fear still washed over him, but he let it flow, his focus on the job at hand. If he stopped to experience their pain, he couldn't prevent more.

He’d led his squad in training simulations plenty of times, as a leader among equals taking his turn at command, but nothing prepared him for having his older brothers -- experienced officers -- looking to him and relying on him, his command and his lightsaber to keep them safe. He stayed close to Kolar, tried to follow his Master’s lead, but then he’d get a warning, and would turn and yell at a trooper to _stay back_ or to _fire there_ , and not only would his command be obeyed without question, but he could see, could _feel_ the difference it was making. And for the first time, he really _could_ trust in the Force, could let himself do what he'd maybe always been capable of doing. On one occasion he pushed his brother out of the way of a blaster bolt and only realised afterwards that the brother in question had been three meters away from him at the time.

It was strange, indescribable: The thrill of victory and the pain of loss all in one whirlwind of Force.

The battle lasted longer than it was planned to, but ended with relief and a sense of satisfaction from the clones that Warlock drank in, standing in the stillness that came from the last droid falling. He extinguished his lightsaber, looked to Kolar to receive a nod of approval, and found his shoulder suddenly under the weight of Viper’s hand.

The clone commander took off his helmet and jerked his head to where stretchers were already being raced out of transport ships towards those fallen troopers who were prone but moving, past others who were limping their way to the ships with the support of their brothers' broad shoulders. From the ships, he knew, they would be taken to the Republic Mobile Surgical Unit -- RMSU -- a few miles away on the planet.

The unit's medic was by the side of a fallen soldier, applying bacta liberally from his kit. He looked over at Warlock and Viper, and offered them a quick salute, but didn't stop working.

"You saved a lot of lives today," Viper told the Padawan.

A clone wearing the double pauldron of the Advanced Recon Commandos passed by and turned his head to grin at Warlock. "Nice work out there, Commander."

"And you," Warlock said quickly, recognising the trooper in question and remembering what he had done. "Nice shooting on those flyers, ARC-Trooper..."

"Sergeant Seven Six Nine Six, sir," the trooper replied smartly. "Clipper, they call me."

Warlock grinned. "Warlock."

"Yes sir," Clipper said, glancing quickly at Viper, "the Commander said. It’s an honour to fight with you, Commander Warlock. We’re all excited to see one of us with a lightsaber."

Warlock found himself speechless, which made Viper chuckle.

* * *

When the battle across the planet were resolved, and clean up was underway ready for transport back to Coruscant, Viper called Kolar over for a private conversation. Warlock was with Clipper, nominally helping him inventory the weapons, but actually receiving a whirlwind education about the range of blasters, and specifically which ones were Clipper's favourite. But he couldn't stop stealing glances over at the two men, because he could see them looking over at him.

Viper was insistent, not angry but stubborn, a level above his impassive advice in the war room. Kolar was surprisingly defensive, but less authoritative than usual, eyes cast down frequently in thought.

Clipper dropped a DC-15x sniper rifle into Warlock's hands with very little warning, and the boy staggered under the weight, making the ARC-Trooper chuckle. "Here," Clipper said, "let's fix that grip."

"I don't think I'm going to use a blaster much," Warlock protested, trying to turn his head back to Viper and Kolar. Clipper grabbed his hand and forced his attention back and his fingers to the grip. 

"If I'm next to you and I fall I want to know that you've got the knowledge to pick it up and finish the job," he said, matter of fact. He wasn't fooling Warlock, but he succeeded in keeping him occupied.

* * *

Kolar didn't mention anything about the conversation afterwards, but he was even more thoughtful than usual for a while afterwards, speaking only when they were on the bridge and heading back to Coruscant.

"Warlock?"

"Yes, Master?" he said automatically, thinking Kolar was intending to get his attention. He was addressing him, but the word itself was also a question.

Kolar looked away from the hyperspace outside the viewing window. "Your name is Warlock?"

"Yes, Master," Warlock said. He paused, feeling like he should add more into the silence.

"I didn’t tell you because..."

...because he wasn’t asked, and it had taken him a while to realise he could volunteer information like that. Had taken him a while to realise he didn’t have to obey every Jedi Master blindly. Because until he saw Viper calmly and authoritatively telling the Jedi what he needed to know, Warlock hadn’t realised that this was a two-way relationship.

"...because I didn’t want to act like I was attached to it."

It was only a name, after all.

"Your name is your name, Warlock," Kolar said. And he said nothing more about it.


End file.
